The Kents—"Bleeding Kansas"

I've been wanting to read The Kents (1997-1988) for years, and thanks to a sale at my Local Comic Book Shop on Free Comic Book Day, now I can. 

The Kents is the story of Clark Kent's mid- to late-19th-century ancestors. The framing story shows Pa Kent, on his Kansas farm, unearthing an old box of letters, journals, and artifacts buried a century earlier. These items tell the story of Silas Kent and his sons, Nathaniel and Jebediah, Boston residents who relocate to the Kansas territory in 1854 to support the abolitionist movement with their presence and printing press. They are embroiled in the showdown between pro-slavery and free-staters incited by the Kansas-Nebraska Act. 

Silas Kent is the crusading reporter in the Kent family tree. At one point, he reprints the entire Declaration of Independence on the front page of his newspaper and rails against "border ruffians" from Missouri who cross into the Kansas territory to raise hell, stuff ballot boxes, and harass the Black populace and anybody who supports them. 

Nathaniel Kent is the Clark/Superman proxy, in appearance, action, and moral code. Accused of being against slavery but without personal acquaintances among the Black community, he sets out to rectify this character flaw by building a friendship with Tobias and Sarah Freeman and their son, Joshua, who live next to the Kent farm. He also falls in love with Mary Glenowen, the daughter of an English father and a Delaware tribe mother. Mary is also the betrothed of Wild Bill Hickok, one of several real-life individuals who mix with the fictional Kents. 

Jeb Kent is the problem child. He questions whether slavery is immoral and pummels his father with hypothetical questions about taking the law into one's own hands when the law itself is unjust. In response to one of his scenarios, Nathaniel points out, "It's not that [breaking the law] is right! It's that it is sometimes necessary." Jeb's preciousness—if that's what it is—foreshadows later events when he joins with the Missouri faction to terrorize abolitionists. Meanwhile, his frequent misspellings in letters to family back in Boston underscore, perhaps unfairly, his moribund thought processes and impetuousness. 

In the first four-issue arc, Luther Reid, about as hissable a villain as a reader could want, leads the pro-slavery faction. He takes lethal action against one of the Kents, inciting the remaining two to seek revenge. 

Writer John Ostrander dedicates The Kents to his wife, Kim Yale, who died before it was completed. It is obvious the book is a passion project for Ostrander, whose blending of history and fiction is seamless. One incident—the caning of Senator Charles Sumner, an abolitionist, by Representative Peter Brooks, in the Senate chamber after Sumner gave a speech criticizing two of Brooks' fellow senators—sent me scurrying online for corroboration. It was true, and just as horrific as Ostrander's account. 

To Ostrander's credit, the first arc shows more nuance to the opposing points of the slavey issue than the reader might expect. While anti-slavery forces are clearly shown as being on the wrong side of history (and morality, and common sense ...), their argument—that the government was guilty of overreach in demanding they divest themselves of "property"—is presented. And abolitionist John Brown, martyred for the cause, is shown to be too extreme in his methods to be effective at changing any minds. Of Brown's abortive attempts at Harper's Ferry, Ostrander has Pa Kent note, "The operation was a fiasco and Brown was captured and later hanged for treason, achieving with his death far more than he ever did with his life." 

Even Jeb Kent, firmly embedded on the wrong side of the issue, is shown to have second thoughts. When the posse Jeb runs with ambushes some free-state supporters and executes them, Jeb refuses to participate, provoking Reid's ire. 

Ostrander studiously avoids appearances of Superman in costume, content to have Clark and Lois Lane read the letters Pa Kent sends from Smallville to Metropolis. Only one incident, an Iroquois blanket with a symbol that looks very similar to the Man of Steel's stylized "S" logo, overtly calls the reader's attention to the bigger DC Universe connections. 

Based on past work, penciller Timothy Truman is obviously at home in the Western genre and contributes his typically detailed artwork here. Each character is delineated carefully, and the buildings, clothing, and landscapes feel true (whether the characters are in New York, Boston, or the Kansas territory). Inker Michael Bair delineates Truman's pencils to perfection. 

One bonus to reading the book in single issues is the letters pages. In the first issue, Ostrander explains how his original intent was to feature Deadshot's ancestors in the story. Publisher Paul Levitz suggested using the Kents, instead. It was a good call. While the book would tell the same story, it resonates more with Superman's adoptive family as the focus. 

"Bleeding Kansas" is a terrific first arc for this maxi-series and has me anticipating the rest of the story. Highly recommended. During this Summer of Superman, I'm surprised DC isn't reprinting The Kents, which would appeal to an audience beyond the usual superhero crowd.